


Petrichor

by mercuriosities



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Lesbians, Smut, heere thar be lesbians, i'm not even sorry for chapter three, read if you dare, sometimes i write gay porn and sometimes I smash your heart against the craggy rocks of my psyche
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 14:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2071728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuriosities/pseuds/mercuriosities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SWEET BABY CHIBIUSA IT'S ANOTHER COLLECTION OF TUMBLR PROMPTS.<br/>I used to run a BSSM roleplay blog and I was pretty happy with some of the fic I posted there; here it is, edited and cleaned up, for old time's sake.</p><p>I'll probably be adding to this collection actually now that I'm immersing myself in BSSM fandom again.</p><p>This largely centers around my OTP which is, predictably, Haruka/Michiru. Because they're perfect and no, don't argue with me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thunder Road

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't think Haruka Tenoh blasts classic rock and roll while she obliterates speed limits with her convertible - well, I have to inform you that you're wrong.
> 
> I guess this is sort of a songfic.

Michiru hadn’t really heard rock music before Haruka entered her life.

She remembered the first drive she took with Haruka, in that silly yellow car that she would eventually grow to love, but at the time she felt conspicuous and flashy. At the time she wondered if her father would look out the window and see her getting into a top-down ferrari convertible with a  _boy_ and he would have a conniption fit. As it turned out, her father hadn’t noticed, hadn’t cared really until he found out Haruka was a girl.

Haruka had popped a CD into the car’s audio system and immediately horns and guitars were blaring from the speakers. It was entirely different from what Michiru’s stately mother had favored before she left - which was either classical with a tendency toward Strauss or traditional Japanese - and since her mother’s disappearance, her father had favored silence. This was raucous, rhythmic, loud and a little disorganized, but still melodic. Still beautiful.

She would later learn the lyrics by heart, but on that day, when Haruka sang along - she didn’t know the tomboyish blonde could sing! - she had changed the words, just a little.

_The screen-door slams, Michi’s dress waves - like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays -_

On the way home from the drive Haruka would stop at a record store and buy her the  _Born to Run_ album, telling her it was less of a gift and more the beginning of her Rock-and-roll education. Over the next few weeks she’d listen to the Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Elvis, Billy Joel, Queen, David Bowie - who was one of Haruka’s favorites  _of course_  - and they would drive for hours around the outskirts of Tokyo and talk about music. They would disagree and argue and tease each other about their favorites, and Michi eventually nicknamed Haruka’s ferrari the ‘yellow submarine’ just to spite the blonde.

No matter how many albums Haruka handed her, though, a part of Michiru would always love the Boss the best.

_Well I’m no hero, that’s understood, all the redemption I can offer, girl, is beneath this dirty hood -_

Michiru wondered (and sometimes when she’s awake from the heat of Tokyo and Haruka’s still fast asleep next to her she still wonders) if Haruka realized just what she’d done those first few weeks of knowing each other - not the flirting, because the blonde flirted with  _everyone,_ but  giving the gift of music. Michiru loved nothing more than discovering new songs, finding new tunes, and while she would never stop loving classical and baroque music, rock and roll offered a raw emotion to which she could relate. She wondered if Haruka saw that in her, saw the anger contained by classical training and honor-bound by tradition, and offered her music as a means of escape.

_Baby this town rips the bones from your back, it’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap - we gotta get out while we’re young -_

Whenever she peeled out of the driveway with Haruka, part of her mind still flashed back to that first day in the yellow submarine, and sometimes she’d even hum a bar or two of one of the songs from that Springsteen album. Haruka would grin, shake her head. 

"One day," the blonde said, on one of those car rides, "When our work is done and we don’t have to fight anymore, I’m going to take you out of here for a long vacation." 

And in that instant, it didn't matter how real Haruka's words were, or how much she was betting against nearly impossible odds. It didn't matter that they both knew they faced death every single day of their lives, that they were more likely to limp home alone at the end of the battle du jour to nurse wounds both physical and soul-crushingly invisible. What mattered was that Haruka was looking beyond the battles, the war, the fact that they were both soldiers pledged to a frontline they did not want with destiny entirely out of their hands. Haruka was looking beyond that and saying  _Yes, Michiru, I want to stay with you._

Michiru could only smile in response - so she did, and she reached over to the stick shift, and settled her hand lightly on top of Haruka’s.

_‘_ _Cause tramps like us, baby, we were born to run…_


	2. Starved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Straight up, mindless porn. SPLASH FREE!
> 
> (Note: I love top!Michi as much as the rest of y'all and I do think in general that's how their relationship plays out but every once in a while I like to see these dorks switch it up. Top!Ruka is DELICIOUS. That is all.)

Michiru was only midway through changing into her pajamas, which happened to be an old t-shirt of Haruka’s, when the aforementioned blonde opened the door. She was clearly exhausted, her hair a mess from being under a racing helmet all day, and her shoulders drooped with fatigue - but she straightened up considerably when she saw the half-naked musician sitting on her bed.

"Oh no you don’t," she veritably growled, a positively feral grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She dropped her duffle bag and  _pounced._

Michiru yelped and kicked her legs out, trying to scoot backward on the bed and pull the shirt over her head at the same time but the motions were in vain. Haruka wasn’t a racer for nothing, and before Michiru could react the shirt was yanked from her delicate fingers and floating to the floor - and  _she_ , for her part, was pinned under a  _very hungry_ soldier who hadn’t seen her lady-love for nearly a week.

"Haruka!" Michiru gasped, pulling her mouth away from the blonde’s for just long enough to get the word out. Haruka shook her head in response and pulled Michiru back toward her, their mouths clashing together with all of their desperation rising to the surface and little of their usual gentleness. Michiru trembled, her fingernails digging involuntarily into Haruka’s forearms - the blonde hissed at the spicy, heady sensation of pleasure and pain, and bit down on Michiru’s neck. She arched, gasped, lifted a hand and tangled her fingers in Haruka’s hair.

"Haruka," she tried again, "It’s nearly midnight and you’re back on the track tomorrow -"

"Don’t care," Haruka growled _, entirely_ too busy for conversation. She thought idly that if Michiru was able to string together full sentences, then Haruka really wasn’t doing her job correctly, and resolved in that second to see her lover writhing and sweating and all of her elegant curtains and walls torn down.

Haruka wasn’t always aggressive - frankly,  _Michiru_ tended to be more bossy in the bedroom, but there was something that Haruka  _loved_ about seeing her elegant, pristine, princess of a girlfriend utterly lost to pleasure. And there was something more with knowing that  _Haruka_ was the only one who could give that to her - a thrill of power that ran through her core, vicious and hot, that made her grin and push her lover into the bed and rake her nails all over her just to hear her moan and whimper and sigh. Haruka wanted that. _N_ _ow_.

Callused fingers slipped along Michiru’s inner thigh, nails dragging against the sensitive skin - the teal-haired woman shuddered, lips parted, and she tried to lean up on her elbows. But Haruka had other plans, and grabbed both of her wrists to pin them above her head, digging them hard into the mattress. When Haruka’s other hand brushed teasingly against the juncture of her legs, Michiru stared at her with those deep blue eyes, hazed over with lust and simple, unadulterated  _want_ , and the blonde nearly lost it.

"Nuh-uh, Michi," Haruka breathed, as much for her own benefit as for Michiru's. "You’re mine tonight." 

She pressed her fingers forward, thrust them  _up_  into that _slick, gorgeous wetness_ -

Michiru bucked against her hand, mouth open in a silent yell, chin lifted, throat bared - and Haruka took the invitation, leaning down to bite again, tongue lapping at the salty-sweet sweat that beaded on Michiru’s skin. Then she pulled her mouth away and bent close to Michiru’s ear, letting her breath dance heatedly over her ear and throat.

"Gods, Michi, I missed you -" the blonde’s whisper was ragged, every other word punctuated by a deep thrust of her fingers, curling them deep in Michiru's core and beckoning her forward. She knew her partner well, knew she was an auditorysort of person. She played the ice princess well, but a choice turn of phrase or two from Haruka could have her trembling in an instant - the filthier, the better.

Haruka, for her part, _loved_ it. She loved it with a vicious and predatory sort of pride, loved knowing that Michiru got off on the dirty talk, and that the idea of being fucked by her was so unrelentingly delicious even after all this time. It drove her forward and when she smiled, her smile was one that could easily be classified as evil, and she responded to the heady brew of power that bubbled in her veins by simply fucking Michiru harder.

"H-haruka…" Michiru’s voice was weak, and she shuddered again, her breath coming in spasms. 

"You feel so goddamn good," Haruka continued, "So hot and slick - and  _god,_ I love seeing you like this. Spread out and broken down, hips bucking against my knuckles, hair tangled and no makeup and  _so thoroughly mine.”_  Michiru’s breathing came faster, her face flushed, eyes screwed shut, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip - all signs Haruka knew like the back of her hand. Michiru was close, and Haruka had every intention of  _ripping_ the orgasm from her grasp instead of just simply letting her come.

"Haruka," breathed the other woman, and her back arched, pressing her hips forward - "Haruka,  _please_  —”

"Mmhmm? You want that? You’d better keep begging then, and you’d better scream my name when you come because I want the whole neighborhood to know that even though I’ve only got you for this night, you’re mine."

"Please, Haruka, please,  _please -“_

Haruka leaned down and licked a long, wet trail along the shell of Michiru’s ear as she pressed her fingers  _deep_ and flicked her thumb against her clit - 

"Now, Michi. Right now."

A strangled cry of “Haruka!” left Michiru’s lips before she arched like a dancer, body taut and trembling, aquamarine hair spread out under her in a tangled curling mess, glimmering dark blue in the dim lamplight. Her fingers clutched at the offending hand that kept her pinned down, nails raking at the skin - but Haruka just relished it all with a satisfied smile curving her lips. 

When Michiru came back down and was breathing a little more evenly, Haruka pulled herself against her partner’s body and curled around her protectively. “I missed you,” she mumbled, and her voice was gentle and quiet.

"I… something might have tipped me off to that, but I’m not sure what."

"Oh?" Haruka pushed herself up on one arm, staring down at her still-sassy girlfriend And frankly, Haruka thought to herself, if Michiru still had that sort of attitude then she was just going to pin her down and remind her who was in charge (for that night at least) all over again.

"Do you need more reminding? Because you should know better than to push me, Michi. I can keep this going all night."

And she did.


	3. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to some fanart I saw of Haruka proposing to Michiru. They were in their Mugen uniforms, so of course I could only think that they were doomed.

Michiru was fifteen when she got “engaged.”

"Fifteen" is, of course, a relative term. She’d always thought of herself as older, and she realized for good reason when her memories came flooding back. She was older. By at least a thousand years. No wonder her classmates had always seemed so immature and petty - lusting after pop idols had seemed a waste of time once she realized she remembered dying and watching her dear kingdom fall from the distant, dark corners of the solar system.

Haruka remembered it too - but Haruka was the first to remember how much Uranus had loved Neptune.

And she was the first to realize that with their own reincarnation, that love had been reborn as well. Michiru might have been scared of it, would have buried it all under a heavy blanket of self-loathing and ice, but for Haruka that love was what pulled her through until the end.

\- - -

The first time they had fallen into bed together was after a particularly hard battle - for the daimons were getting stronger, even if neither of them would acknowledge it - they were getting stronger too, their own powers were evolving, but if evil changed so quickly and grew so swiftly then perhaps they were doomed after all - they were still out of breath and skin coated in a film of sweat and grime and blood - their mouths crashed together like waves breaking against cliff-lines and hands clutched and grabbed gracelessly, just trying to stay  _as close as possible_ , trying to hold each other, find each other again. Michiru felt her own heart swell when the Sky King kissed her and tasted like tears. She wondered afterward as she felt her heart beat like a snare drum if the only reason she wanted Haruka is because Neptune did. But when she gazed at the blonde, curled up and naked and intensely strong and vulnerable all at once as she slept, she realized she didn’t much care. _  
_

But the next day the lines were drawn again in their relationship, and they could flirt ambiguously in front of others but never quite touch in the apartment that they shared, and Michiru stared at the blue sheets on her bed where just the night before they had tangled up together with a sick feeling in her stomach.

She had never hated their all-hallowed Destiny more.

She slept on the couch for the next week and a half.

\- - -

The moon streamed gentle silver light through their living room window, and Haruka stared at Michiru as she slept on the sofa, her stomach flip-flopping and mouth twisted into a grim line. Had she been so cruel? Didn’t their mission require these boundaries of them?

They couldn’t actually be together until it was done because - for both of them - the mission was a jealous partner, abusive and codependent, never leaving their side even when they begged for breathing room. How could she, who had nothing compared to Michiru’s absolute everything - everything but the love of a family, everything but warmth, everything but someone to hold her and tell her how beautiful she honestly, actually is - promise to be with Michiru forever when ‘forever’ might in fact be tomorrow?

Wasn’t this for the best?

Blue eyes hardened, then, set and determined. Haruka had a new course of action.

A new mission.

\- - -

"Michi, I have to ask you something."

It was three days to the end of everything and both of them knew it with startling calm clarity. It was the day before Eudial would call and set the bait for the trap that would pull them to the Marine Cathedral, the unavoidable pit into which they both knew, at this point, they would fall.

Neither of them knew if they would survive.

Michiru smiled at the nickname, as Haruka was really the only one who could get away with calling her by a diminutive.

"Go ahead," she murmured, turning to glance at the taller woman. Their standard-issue uniform shoes scuffed gently against the cobblestone path in the park, leaves kicking up around them on a gentle breeze. It was fall, again, a beautiful autumn day that belied the darkness that grew in the heart of Tokyo.

The calm before the storm.

She moved to take another step - 

Then whirled back around as Haruka caught her hand, pulled her back. When she turned, she saw the blonde was down on one knee and held a small black box in her other hand.

Her breath caught in her throat, her blue eyes widened. 

"This isn’t a joke," Haruka said, flatly. "Before you ask. I know… I can’t actually promise myself to you yet. And I know you can’t promise anything either. The mission comes first because it has to. Because it’s the world. But -"

She paused here, swallowed hard.

"But you’re the world to me, Michiru, and once this is done - if we make it through - I promise I will never leave your side. That’s what this is. It’s a promise. When this is done, I’m yours."

She flicked the box open with her thumb, revealing a thin silver band set with a blue stone as clear and clean as the caribbean sea. Michiru felt tears slip down her cheeks as she recognized her birthstone.

"Haruka," she managed, but only barely.

Then she pressed her hands to her mouth, nodded, and cried.

\- - -

Three days later, as Eudial’s gun punched her heart from her chest, as she fell in slow motion to the floor because  _fuck the goddamn mission, Haruka will live even if I can’t -_  as Uranus watched Neptune break all the rules they had set down, the little blue stone caught the light from the stained glass windows and sparkled, quietly.

It was over, Haruka realized. It was done.

And she could still keep her promises - to Michiru, and to the world.

She reached for the gun.


End file.
